


yours, mine, ours

by forpeaches (bluecarrot)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Baby, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Implied/Referenced Incest, Newborn Children, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, domesticity ahoy, fluff is a term used by the porn industry but it means something different here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:47:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27461428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecarrot/pseuds/forpeaches
Summary: we welcome an heir to the craggy cliffs of Tarth.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 20
Kudos: 137





	yours, mine, ours

**Author's Note:**

> 08 November 2020.

“Support her head.”

“Like this?”

“Yes — no. Wench, stop that. Give her here.”

Brienne gives over the bundle willingly enough, but protests all the same. “You have only one hand to hold her with, are you certain—”

“I have held a baby, even if you haven’t. Like this, see?” He keeps his empty wrist beneath the head and neck, curling the other protectively. “She has your eyes.”

“Your hair,” says Brienne. White-blonde rather than golden, it lies in wet, wild curls against her red and wrinkled skin.

“Your nose.”

“Your mouth.”

“Your arse,” says Jaime: and laughs immoderately.

“Don’t say things like that.” But she’s too tired to be annoyed, too happy — and relieved — to scold him. The pregnancy is finished and the labor is done and Jaime is smiling, he’s smiling and he’s holding his child like he loves her, like he loves them both, he’s holding her like ... like ...

Like he’s done it before. “You said that Cersei didn’t let you near the babies.”

“She didn’t.”

“Whose baby did you hold?”

He looks up at her then. “Do you truly think I’ve gone off and sired a half-dozen bastards?”

Her arms ache, suddenly. They’re so empty. “Give her back. I want to hold her again.”

“A mother’s perogative,” he says, and settles the infant against her chest. “I wasn’t permitted to touch them or play with them or speak to them, hardly.” He smiles again — one corner of his mouth up. “My bastards.”

“We don’t need to talk about it. Jaime, — Jaime — did you see that? She yawned.”

“She’ll begin squalling in a minute,” he says.

“She’s had a hard day.”

“Scream and shit and sleep, that’s all she’ll do for weeks.” He touches her hand and she reaches out, clasps his finger. “A good strong grip, this one. We’ll make a swordswench of her yet.”

“That’s so dangerous, though,” says Brienne. “And she’s so small.”

“She’ll grow. Mine did.”

“She’s yours, too.”

“Ours,” says Jaime. His eyes are drifing closed. “Yours and mine.”

“Gods help her,” says Brienne. A treacherous fondness is blooming in her chest. “Doomed from the start.”

**Author's Note:**

> -i am Brienne in this fic as i’ve never held a baby and have NO IDEA about the rules
> 
> -it’s my headcanon (unsupported by reality) that Jaime snuck into the nursery at Kings Landing like EVERY DAY so he could snuggle his little niece & nephews
> 
> -thank you to observedchaos, whose conversation lead to this. s-sorry?


End file.
